My first memory of Bobby was, this young man, a stranger to me, who came home to Struan after being held a prisoner of war; yes I remember that far back. My last memory was him waving Marion & I goodbye from the front gate of Struan when we were returning here to Australia.
In between these times are many wonderful thoughts of Bobby I see in my minds eye.
For instance, Bobby chatting to Eric walking along the Main road or down Station road on their daily walks.
Our yearly cultivation and sowing of the vegetable plot where the peas, beans, onions, lettuce etc were rotated religiously.
Our many weekend conversations over endless cups of coffee brewed in the saucepan and kept hot on the wood fired stove in the kitchen, where the radio was always on and on cold days it was lovely and warm.
The times we spent in the garage, washing and polishing his pride and joy the Alvis.
The family get togethers, when he would get out some of his many old 78 records and play them on the Blackbox record player, laughing, dancing and singing along with the artists. He was a convivial host and an endless fount of fascinating and humorous stories.
He was deeply interested in the world around him, especially the welfare of Scotland, and our sojourns around the country rallying the cause of the SNP were profoundly memorable.
His love of conversation and debate broadened the horizons of many.
I will dearly miss him.
Marion and Jason fondly remember Bobby gaily dancing around in the sitting room to any music that was being played with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, demonstrating how this step or the other be done. Jason shares Bobby’s love of music. Tristan has little memory of him as he was too young when he left Scotland though he was greatly saddened when we broke the news.
Always in our hearts